


Teenage Revolutionares

by Annariel



Series: The Adventures of Purple Cat [6]
Category: Urban Dead
Genre: F/M, POV Female Character, POV First Person, Teenagers, Zombies
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-07-08
Updated: 2011-07-08
Packaged: 2017-10-21 04:08:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/220735
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annariel/pseuds/Annariel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabby gets to foster rebellion in Penny Heights.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Teenage Revolutionares

**Author's Note:**

  * For [gabcd86](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=gabcd86).



> Thanks to fredbassett for beta-reading.

"Well, fuck me sideways," muttered Jim, his Australian accent broadening as it always did when he was surprised.

We were standing at the top of Doveton Towers in Gulsonside, looking towards Penny Heights. In particular we were looking towards the Old Quarter. Before Necrotech and the zombies, Penny Heights had been a small village, swallowed up by the growth of Malton. Medieval geography had crammed the houses together on a rocky outcrop surrounded by marshland. It had narrow twisting streets and a sheer drop on three sides where the rock rose out of the plain.

Of course the 20th century had drained the marsh and built Barratt boxes all around the rock, but the Old Quarter had remained, the tiny farmers' cottages clustered together. At the peak of the rock, the old buildings had been swept aside and a couple of prestige glass and steel constructions hung out over the plain below but other than that the Old Quarter had retained an air of historic charm. What we saw, as we looked east was that Penny Heights' Old Quarter was a natural fortress and someone had capitalised on that fact. The narrow roads that had once zig-zagged up the steep sides of the rock had been blasted into oblivion Only the gentle incline up from the west remained and I was prepared to bet that the narrow alleyways into the Old Quarter were all stopped up with barricades. On top of the rock it was possible to see smoke rising from chimneys and people moving in the streets.

Gabby grabbed the binoculars back from Jim and looked through them again. "Why didn't we ever think of that?" he asked.

"Because our hills aren't that shape?" I suggested.

Gabby shrugged. "We still should have thought of it."

"I wonder what they want from us?" mused Jim. "They look pretty well set up to me."

"We know what they want. Trade with Caiger," I pointed out.

"Can't think Caiger has much to offer them. They ought to be pretty self-sufficient set up like that and there are malls a lot closer than Caiger where they can trade."

"Caiger's big and important," I suggested. "Maybe they want the networking."

Gabby shrugged. "Doesn't really matter. We're just here to rubber stamp them with a, `yes we like these people. Let's be friends.'"

"It's more than that," said Jim. "Brass wouldn't have sent us at all if they weren't worried about something."

"Like what?" I asked.

Jim shrugged. "I don't listen to rumours."

"Gabby?" I asked. Not that Gabby listened to rumours much either, but you never knew.

He shrugged in turn. "It's a green suburb, isn't it? They have it easy here."

"That doesn't actually explain whatever it is Brass are up to."

"Hey! I'm just trying to make it seem like there's a process," he grumbled. "C'mon, let's get over there."

"You know, I reckon Goldy smells a rat," said Jim as we worked our way across the roof tops towards Penny Heights.

"How do you mean?" I asked.

"Well, let's be realistic, if you were picking three people to generally grease the wheels of commerce, cause no trouble, and play nice, would you pick us?"

"I play nice," I said, offended.

Gabby snorted. "You play grumpy most of the time."

"Well they certainly didn't pick you because of your diplomatic skills," I shot back.

"See what I mean," he said to Jim.

"Jim's not exactly known for being quiet and inconspicuous, either," said Jim.

"So Brass wants this to fail?" I asked.

"Nope! I reckon Brass wants to find out what happens if we shake this lot up a bit. If they actually wanted it to fail they'd send Delta squad with orders to shoot first and ask questions later."

"Shake them up a bit?"

"You, me, him," Jim pointed at us in turn. "It isn't going to be a quiet uncontroversial visit."

"I am here, you know," said Gabby. "And I'm in charge of you two."

"Which proves my point, unless the whole place is a commune run on Marxist lines."

"In which case Brass would have said no and not bothered with any kind of fact-finding mission," I pointed out.

"You two are just paranoid," said Gabby.

"Nah! I'm looking forward to the fireworks," said Jim, grinning. "This is anticipation!"

We'd received our marching orders a couple of days earlier back in Dunell Hills, although they were vague. A message had come in over the radio on the DHPD frequency, requesting an alliance. In his infinite wisdom, Goldstar, currently chief of the DHPD, had picked three representatives from Bravo Squad. We'd been told to head out to Penny Heights and given a phone number to ring when we got close. We'd scoffed a bit at that. Phone masts were hardly ever powered in Malton these days, but now we were near and could see the set up, I was prepared to believe there was a working mast up there and, indeed, when I checked the mobile in my pocket it was registering a signal.

I waved the phone at Gabby.

"What?" he asked.

"We've got a signal. You'd better phone ahead and let them know we're here."

"Can't you do it?"

"I thought you said you were in charge."

"This is called delegation. Phone them wimmenz and tell them we're on our way."

I sighed and dialled the number, watching balefully as Gabby and Jim made the jump to the next roof top.

Gabby was the youngest of our group and our resident Marxist and wannabe rock star. He could leap easily from building to building, his lanky frame stretching effortlessly across the gaps. Every so often he brushed his unruly mop of brown hair out of his eyes. I made a mental note to take the scissors to it again once we got back to Dunell Hills. Notionally he was in charge, since he was Bravo Squad leader, but Bravo Squad tended to do more or less what it felt like and let Gabby take the blame when it didn't work. Jim was an Australian pilot. He'd got trapped in Malton during the final stages of the outbreak when his helicopter was over-run by zombies and he'd been forced to blow it up. That was his story anyway. Jim was often forced to blow things up and I was never entirely sure he hadn't deliberately contrived to get trapped in Malton. Jim was almost as tall as Gabby, but he was broad-chested and heavily muscled where Gabby was willow thin. Jim managed to keep his brown hair short and spiky where Gabby's endlessly flopped into his eyes. Sometimes I thought Jim had a sensible head on his shoulders, and then he'd refer to himself in the third person and somehow, inevitably, something would get blown up. I was last, since I only came up to about chest height on Gabby and Jim, I didn't find the jumps and stretches necessary for getting from rooftop to rooftop as easy as they did.

"Hello, Penny Heights Executive. How may we help?"

"Err... This is Purple Cat, DHPD Bravo Squad. I think we're expected?"

There was a pause as if someone was checking notes. "Yes you are. Can you give your location?"

"Border of Gulsonside. We should be with you in an hour or so, assuming the free running lanes aren't too bad."

"I'll inform the gatehouse that they should expect you."

"Thanks," I said and hung up. I decided that was easily the most bizarre phone conversation I'd had since the zombie apocalypse started. I wouldn't have been all that surprised if they'd put me on hold and played canned music at me.

As we climbed up the long road into Penny Heights' Old Quarter we could see how the defences were being managed. Thick heavy sheets of metal were bolted across the narrow gaps between the buildings. They formed a series of continuous barriers across the width of the upward slope. Zombies pressed hard up against the outermost sheet, a thick outer wall of decaying flesh, but the sheer metal offered no handholds for purchase for the scrabbling fingers. Sooner or later weight of numbers would cause the barriers to buckle, or possibly the zombies would simply pile themselves up high enough to scramble over. But then there would be the next wall to cross and presumably the Heights had a system for repairing the walls and clearing out the zombies.

We paused on the roof of a house that rose slightly above its neighbours. There was a final barrier to go. Beyond it we could see what looked like fields. I could only assume that whole houses had been demolished to create them. Beyond the fields were old factories and warehouses, smoke billowing from their chimneys and beyond that I could make out the familiar form of a Necrotech building, towering over the small hamlet.

Tall steel watchtowers peppered the barriers. We had passed several already. Armed men had been seated on a platform at the top of the first had directed us to report at a tower on the inner wall. I could see them phoning ahead as we moved through the serried ranks of steel walls.

It was tempting to drop down and walk the zombie-free streets, but the citizens had strung bridges and walkways between the buildings and getting down to street level would have been more effort than it was worth.

Between the final two walls, every house had been cleared, leaving a long gap, closed off on either side by the featureless steel panels. A narrow rope bridge reached across, taking us to the final tower. The tower was a gothic-looking affair with strange decorations jutting out from it. Armed guards were visible at the end of the bridge.

"I guess we're going to have to present our credentials," muttered Jim.

"In spite of myself, I'm quite impressed by the set up," said Gabby.

"In spite of yourself?"

"Keeping people out, bloody fascists."

"Keeping zombies out," I said.

"Guards? Watchtowers? They're keeping people out too. I can spot a fascist dictatorship when I see one."

"Yes, well just keep that opinion to yourself until you know more about the situation," I suggested.

"Hey! Diplomatic mission. I get the drill!"

As we approached the sole entry point we began to realise that the gothic decorations were no decorations at all. They were spikes and posts and crosses. A man was pinned to one cross, his feet hanging out over the drop below.

"Fucking hell!" said Gabby as the form became obvious.

"Diplomatic mission," I muttered.

"The fuck!"

"Look, we don't know the story," I said, as I recalled my brother's thoughts on how crime and punishment worked in Malton. `All we have is pain' he had said.

"Oh and that fucking matters!"

"If he's a rapist?" I asked. "Or a paedophile? Would you throw him to the zombies to be back on the loose again the moment he finds a revive? Heck, he could just be Gore Corp or a Philosophe Knight."

"It's still..." Gabby tailed away. "I don't fucking like it."

"We don't have to like it," said Jim quietly. "We go in. Look around and report back."

Even so, as we explained ourselves to the men at the gate and showed our badges, for what they were worth, I kept stealing sideways glances up at the man on the cross. His palms were nailed into the wooden cross-piece.

"What's the story with him?" Jim suddenly asked one of the guards. His tone was carefully neutral, suggesting nothing more than idle curiosity.

"Threw in his lot with the terrorists," said the guard. "Used to be in Mr. Rayne's honour guard. A bad lot all round, he turned out to be."

"What terrorists?" asked Gabby.

"You know, people working with the zombies, trying to break this place open and let in the horde. Lowest of the low."

Gabby muttered something that might have been, "Fucking propaganda."

"We do that too," Jim said over him. "We've got most of the big killing groups on our list of terrorist organisations. They're all shoot on sight."

The man nodded while Gabby scowled, but at least he stopped muttering.

* * *

We were shown to rooms in one of the central buildings, a large Georgian edifice that had once been a pub and before that, presumably, some kind of coaching inn, given the suites of guest rooms above it. We had a twin room and a single, arranged either side of a small bathroom. There was no running water, but nevertheless it seemed like the epitome of luxury.

"Curtains!" I muttered fingering the heavy drapes at the window.

"Typical wimmenz," grumbled Gabby.

I snorted. "And when was the last time you slept in a room with curtains."

"Trivialities. I'm more interested in the whole mattresses thing they have going here."

"He's afraid of the dark anyway," said Jim.

We cleaned up as best we could in the pitcher of water provided, pinned on our badges in an attempt to look vaguely official and donned the old and battered DHPD jackets that had been liberated from Cotty Street Police Station years before. Then we headed downstairs for the tour we had been promised.

"They want to impress us," observed Jim. "So we don't have to worry too much. As long as we can eat with our mouths closed we should be fine."

"What about the man at the gate?" demanded Gabby.

"We don't have to like everything they do and we can report it back as a bad point."

"You think it's a good idea."

Jim took off his sunglasses and polished them thoughtfully before putting them back on and hiding his eyes. "I'm not keen on it. But if it works for them don't knock it until you know more. This is a crazy, messed up city and there isn't a lot that deters the zombies and their allies."

We trouped downstairs to be greeted by a well-groomed woman who introduced herself as Masha Yolum.

"You in charge around here?" asked Gabby.

She laughed, tinkling and artificial. "Oh no! That's Mr. Rayne."

"When do we get to meet him?" Gabby asked.

"He's a very private individual and very security conscious. I'll put in a request for an audience."

"Security conscious?" I asked.

"Yes. He _is_ responsible for the smooth running of Penny Heights."

"Yes, but..." I tailed off. I felt like asking what was the worst that could happen, but maybe in a suburb as secure as this one people really did worry about dying.

"It'd be good to talk to someone in charge," said Gabby. "Diplomat to diplomat, you know."

"I'll set up some meetings for you tomorrow."

"That's good," Gabby nodded. "Meetings, cool!"

I looked at Jim and wondered what on Earth the three of us would actually do in a meeting.

Masha was already leading us out of the inn and onto the streets of the Penny Heights.

The tour was impressive, very impressive. It started out at `The Complex'. This turned out to be the densely-packed set of prestige buildings that had been built to hang out over the very edge of the Rock. Dunlop Bank was an old Georgian mansion, built by some long forgotten grandee and its floors were built down into the rock as well as towering up above it. Rothwell Necrotech was a modern glass and steel structure, built to the same standard pattern of many of Necrotech's labs, and it nestled close to the bank. Covered steel walkways connected the two buildings together, high up above the street where zombies couldn't reach. To those two buildings had been bolted a second prestige glass and steel office block, the Tompkyns building, several old houses and St. Martha's Church so that they formed one large self-contained space. The only way in and out was the heavy church doors that had been reinforced with steel plates and attached to hefty automatic gears. It was from the Complex, we learned, that Mr. Rayne governed Penny Heights. He and his `Honour Guard' lived and worked there.

St. Martha's had been repurposed into the Hall of Government. The pews had been cleared away and replaced by ostentatious decorative seating. Brightly coloured wall hangings covered the ugly metal plates bolted over the remains of the windows. They weren't quite tapestries, but the place had the air of a medieval castle none-the-less. Given them a few years and a dozen needlewomen and the wall-hangings would no doubt be chronicling Rayne's victories against the horde. Masha answered our questions with the friendly, eager and slightly false demeanour of someone experienced in customer relations. It was difficult to get a grip on the governance of Penny Heights, there was a lot of talk of elected councils and democratic process but my guess was that Rayne and the Honour Guard called the shots. The Hall of Government was just for show.

The key to Penny Heights' security was the steel panels that kept the zombies at bay and which reinforced every gap and building throughout the suburb. These were, apparently, designed and built by a Mr. Watkinson, though I couldn't work out his connection to Rayne. By the time Gabby asked if we could meet Watkinson and see the workshops, I was already thinking that the DHPD needed, if at all possible, to get hold of some of them. I was wondering if we could set up our own workshop in Dunell Hills. I asked about this as we were being led out of the Complex.

"I doubt it," said Masha. "The process is very technical. Mr. Watkinson had extensive experience in aeroplane manufacture before he moved to Penny Heights. He's developed all the techniques we use, and runs the workshops. Mr. Watkinson is the only person who really understands it all and he is needed here. The panels have to be constantly replaced."

"How technical can making big sheets of metal be?" asked Gabby.

"Could you make them?" asked Masha.

"Well no, but then I'm only seventeen so I don't really count."

Masha looked rather pointedly at Jim and me.

"We can't either," said Jim. "But we're just the hired help; he's the brains of the operation."

Gabby stuck his tongue out at us behind Masha's back.

The workshops were based in an old mill. According to my _Malton A-Z_ it was a junkyard, but Masha Yolum described it as a disused steelworks. Inside the workshops were hot. Heat seemed to pour out from huge furnaces. Serried ranks of workers in protective clothing were handling huge casts, and beating out great sheets. The air was heavy with a dark dust that seemed to coat everything.

Gabby managed to squeeze out one question about `worker's rights,' before Jim silenced him with a well-aimed jab in the ribs. Masha's answer was sufficiently bland to raise my suspicions but given this was the only place in Malton where there _were_ any workers it was difficult to feel too sorry for them.

Mr. Watkinson was a large man with the harried look of someone who has too much else on his mind to be talking to random diplomats. He shook our hands and, in between shouting instructions, talked briefly about steel production. I didn't understand much of it, but I understood enough to realise that it was complicated, and that without Mr. Watkinson, Penny Heights was toast.

It wasn't so much what he said but the way he took Masha to one side and asked, not quietly enough, when he'd get more people to train that the penny dropped.

"Mr. Rayne needs to know he can trust the apprentices," Masha said quietly.

We wouldn't ever be getting any training from Watkinson in Dunell Hills. Rayne needed Watkinson's expertise to remain `secret' knowledge that only Rayne could control. If we wanted steel sheets then we'd have to buy them from Rayne. The only thing, frankly, that we had to trade was the DHPD's reputation as a law enforcement organisation of sorts. I wondered if we were intended as the foot soldiers in Rayne's expansion out beyond Penny Heights.

"The class that has the means of material production at its disposal, has control at the same time over the means of mental production." A dark-skinned girl I'd seen hovering at Watkinson's side spoke up for the first time. Long black hair was caught up in a pony tail, revealing high cheek-bones and large dark eyes. She was thin and wiry with the same whip-cord build as Gabby, only shorter. She had one fist raised in the air. "If you deny us the knowledge to protect ourselves we will always be in Rayne's power."

I obviously wasn't the only person who thought the lack of apprentices was deliberate.

"Hush, Priya," muttered Watkinson.

"Go Marx!" shouted Gabby raising his fist back at her.

"Gabby!" I hissed.

I saw the girl glance our way and I think she may have smiled at Gabby.

Masha stared coldly at her. "That reminds me. Mr. Rayne wants you confined to the vaults for three days from this evening."

"She's done nothing wrong," said Watkinson protectively.

"Apart from consorting with terrorists," said Masha. "I believe Chris Yates spilled some beans before he got strung up outside the gatehouse."

"Chris didn't do anything wrong," said the girl fiercely.

"Priya!" hissed Watkinson.

"You should think yourself lucky your Dad's important," spat back Masha. "Or you'd be in the punishment pits by now."

"I think you are going too far," said Watkinson coldly.

"Your daughter exploits her privileged position," said Masha. "Just remember. When you return to the Complex this evening, Priya goes to the vaults."

"The harder Rayne tightens his grip the more people will slip through his fingers," said Priya, glaring at Masha.

"I'm in love!" Gabby said quietly.

Jim slapped him over the back of his head. "Just because she can quote Marx _and_ Star Wars doesn't make her your dream woman."

"...and we're on a diplomatic mission," I pointed out.

Gabby rolled his shoulders. "I'm cool. Do I look cool?"

"You look devastatingly handsome and terribly revolutionary in a, let's talk once I'm no longer on a diplomatic mission, kind of a way," I said.

"You're no fun." Gabby ran a hand through his hair. "Do you think we can arrange to meet up later? We should get out and meet the populace don't you think?"

"No, we don't think," said Jim.

"Hey! Who's in charge here?"

"I was worried you would say that."

At that moment sirens blared out.

"What's that?" I asked Masha.

"We have a break in!"

Five years as a pseudo police force in a zombie-infected city had the three of us heading straight for the workshop door. I realised the rest of the workers were hanging back and then I realised that we were the only three people in the place who were armed.

Gabby must have spotted it at the same time.

"They're unarmed! Why the fuck are they unarmed?" he shouted, gesticulating at Masha.

"Reduces the risk of gun crime," she said coldly. "You have only been allowed to retain your weapons as a courtesy.

"This is mad," began Gabby.

"No time," said Jim. "Let's get out there."

"You should stay here," said Masha. "The Honour Guard will handle the incursion."

We looked at each other, then Gabby laughed. "Sorry Masha, no can do. We're the DHPD."

We ran out onto the street.

The sound of gunfire sounded up ahead. We pushed on against a crowd that was rushing in the opposite direction until, suddenly, they thinned out and we were standing in a narrow street, the three of us, with a horde of zombies directly ahead.

I already had my shotgun at my shoulder and started firing. Gabby produced his Smith & Wesson, Slasher, and opened fire as well. Jim appeared to be fiddling with something.

"Where did you get that?" asked Gabby suddenly.

I glanced sideways and saw that Jim had a small hand grenade, in the style of old WWII movies.

"Found it in a museum. Perfect for an enclosed situation like this."

"If you don't bring the houses down, you mean."

Jim grinned, pulled the pin out with his teeth and then lobbed the hand grenade in the direction of the horde.

"And what are we supposed to do if it doesn't go off?" I demanded.

Jim shrugged. "Shoot the zombies."

There was a rolling explosion. When the dust cleared only a couple of zombies were standing. I plugged one and Gabby shot the other.

"What now?" I asked. "How do we clear the bodies?"

"We wheel them to the edge of the rock and then dump them over." It was Priya walking down the street pulling a large trolley.

"Shouldn't you have a minder of some sort?" I asked.

She shrugged nonchalantly and looked around vaguely. "I don't see one."

"Hey! Are we going to help with the clear up or fret about the failing operation of the fascist state?" asked Gabby.

"You can't fault his logic," said Priya with a smile.

I could, but I had to admit that we hadn't been told that Priya wasn't supposed to be hanging around on her own fraternising with us, or even that there were any restrictions on movement, so I let it slide.

"Hi, I'm Gabriel Mallows, DHPD." Gabby grinned rather awkwardly at Priya and stuck out a hand.

"Priya Watkinson." She shook the hand and peered up at Gabby from under her fringe.

They stood grinning at each other for a moment or two.

"Trolley's not going to fill itself," said Jim cheerfully. "You two going to admire each other's communist assets or are you going to help?"

I swear both of them blushed. Gabby certainly did. Priya's darker skin made it hard to tell. However they set to, heaving the bodies into the cart.

I was impressed with the way Gabby managed to slip in beside Priya once we were done. They both hauled on the large handle, their shoulders rubbing together.

"Liked your Marx quote," I heard Gabby say before they vanished up the street.

"Who's been teaching him to chat up women?" I asked Jim.

"Ant, I believe."

"This is not going to end well."

"He's seventeen. It's not like it would end well even if this wasn't a zombie apocalypse and he wasn't getting dating advice from a psychotic former special forces soldier with a woman in every suburb."

"He's almost eighteen."

"Oh well, that makes all the difference."

We followed them. Priya led us to a paved walkway at the edge of the rock. It had probably once been a sight-seeing point. There was an iron railing and then a long drop to modern Penny Heights far below. Looking east we could just see the breach. It looked like an explosive had blown the barricades open, which was possible. Everything had happened very fast which suggested the zombies might well have had assistance and explosives were probably the quickest way to get through the Old Quarter's multiple defensive walls. New metal sheets were already being winched into place to cover the gap. Half a dozen men with guns stood around, watching as the men and women laboured with the barricade.

We pushed the trolley up a sloping ramp to the top of the railing and then dump the bodies over the edge of the rock.

"Where's the rest of the horde?" I asked Priya, gesturing to the breach and the people working to repair the gap.

"Roaming around inside the suburb somewhere," she said. "They don't seem bright enough to hang around the breaches. The repair team can usually get out and fix it."

"We should start looking for the horde then," said Gabby vaguely glaring in the direction of the narrow streets.

"They'll be heading for the holding pens," said Priya. "The whole place is set up to funnel them in that direction."

"The holding pens?" I asked.

Priya looked at us thoughtfully and I realised that she wasn't the only person to have lost her minder in the excitement.

"Follow me," she said.

"About time we got the real tour," muttered Gabby.

I glanced at Jim. "Intel is always good," was all he said.

* * *

Priya led us on a rather different tour of Penny Heights. Gabby lapped up everything she said but, even so, she didn't appear to be exaggerating too much. You didn't have to be a genius to work out that an operation like Penny Heights required military efficiency, nor to see that the workshop was the lynchpin of it all. Rayne controlled the workshop through Watkinson. According to Priya, Watkinson was afraid for her safety if he didn't do as Rayne asked. When I asked why she didn't just leave in that case, she said she wasn't abandoning her friends in the Heights.

Zombie incursions, such as we had just witnessed were infrequent, but they happened. The street layout was designed to encourage the hordes to wonder towards deep pits. Rayne's men could then stand around the edge and take pot shots at the zombies below.

For giggles, people who ran foul of Rayne were also kept in the pits, waiting for the next horde to arrive and eat them. Officially only murderers or people who tried to bring down the barricades got thrown in there. Priya claimed that any dissenter tended to end up in the pits.

We were just picking off some straggling zombies and loading them onto Priya's trolley when Masha caught up with us once more. She was flanked by two large men, armed with shotguns.

"What are you doing?" she asked suspiciously.

"Killing zombies!" Gabby said with a shrug and, rather showily, raised Slasher and shot a shambling corpse that had conveniently ambled out of a side street.

"What have you been saying?" Masha turned to Priya.

"Nothing!" she said defensively.

"Well apart from `Watch out!' and `Can you help me with this corpse?'," said Jim. "Why? What are you afraid she'd say."

He stared rather blankly at Masha who scowled. "The Honour Guard have the situation under control," she said. "It's fine to go back to your quarters. Miss Watkinson you had better come with me."

"Now wait a minute," started Gabby.

"I'll be fine." Priya flashed him a smile and allowed herself to be led away by Masha.

We were left with the two thugs.

"Back to our quarters?" Jim asked.

* * *

We discovered that we could order buckets of hot water for the bath in the en suite. It's possible I stayed there for a long time. Long enough for Gabby and Jim to give up pounding on the door and demanding their turn. I couldn't remember when I had last had an actual bath, though it must have been in the first days of the outbreak, before the walls went up and the utilities were cut off.

I was just considering whether I actually ought to get out when I heard movement in Jim and Gabby's room.

"What if they come back?" said a voice.

"They look pretty fixed in the bar," said another. "Leave the note in one of the bags. The younger guy's if you can. He's been muttering about revolution since they arrived. Even Masha's noticed."

"Do you think it'll work?"

"We need someone to act from inside the Complex. If the DHPD can do that, then we're sorted. Look, this will be his. It's got Marx in it. Put the note inside the cover."

"What if the book's only for show?"

"We'll have to try something else. Now come on!"

I listened to the sound of feet receding and then cautiously got out of the bath. I pulled on my clothes and unlocked the adjoining door before rifling through Gabby's bag. The note was easy to find.

The message itself was simple, an invitation for Gabby to meet `the opposition' that evening after curfew. I sighed and headed down to the makeshift bar to fetch my two friends.

We convened a council of war in the main bedroom and I showed them the note and explained the conversation I'd overheard.

"Cool! There's a resistance. We are totally going to meet them," said Gabby.

"But we're _not_ going to meet the resistance properly," I protested. "They want us to do something for them but they've no reason to trust us. They'll fob us off with someone who doesn't know much."

"So? Probably still worth doing?"

"This is not what we're here for," I pointed out. "I don't recall Brass saying anything about starting revolutions."

I looked to Jim for support, but he just shrugged. "Sounds like fun. Jim's in favour."

I scowled at him. If he was resorting to the third person, there was bound to be trouble.

"If it works then this whole place could go to pot."

Jim lay back on the bed and gazed at the ceiling. "Jim's not so sure that's a bad thing."

"OK! Fine! We'll let ourselves be used by this resistance."

"Don't look so sour, Cat," said Gabby. "It's all more information right? That's what we're here for."

So about an hour after curfew we left the inn via an upstairs window. Everyone in Malton carries ropes with them and so it was simple enough to get down to street level. We found a small boy waiting for us. I judged he was about ten years old. He must have spent half his life hiding from the undead.

"You the DHPD?" he hissed.

"No, we're the Scooby Gang!" I shot back.

The child looked blank. "You what?"

"Yes, we're the DHPD," said Gabby. "Got your message."

The boy nodded and then darted off down an alleyway with us at his heels. Several twists and turns and a steep set of steps later and we found ourselves in the rather damp cellar of a one time convenience store. There were three people there, all rather dramatically wearing balaclavas.

Jim, I noticed, had drawn his pistol, though he was holding it casually, pointed down towards the floor.

"You the resistance?" asked Gabby.

"Guess," said one of the figures in a gruff male voice.

"Cool!" There was a table against one wall and Gabby perched on it. "What can we do to help?"

"Gabby!" I said. "Who says we're going to help?"

"I do. This place is a fucking fascist state."

"But..." I began but Jim placed a hand on my arm.

"Let him talk."

"Right!" said Gabby. "There's a good set up here, but it doesn't need a curfew or the concentration of power in the hands of Rayne, nor that cross at the gate and the punishment pits."

"We've not even met Rayne yet," I pointed out.

Gabby waved me into silence. "Irrelevant. Look, basically the person who controls the workshop controls Penny Heights, right?" He looked at the resistance, and their spokesman nodded. "So basically we need to seize control of the workshop for the people."

I think I groaned out loud at that point.

"Mr. Watkinson isn't a big supporter of Rayne," said the resistance man. "He only works with him out of fear for his daughter."

"How does that work?" asked Gabby. "What's he afraid Rayne is going to do to her?"

"She's kept on a pretty tight leash. She has to stay in the Complex most of the time and is only allowed into the workshop for an hour or two each day."

"She didn't seem to be that closely guarded yesterday," I pointed out.

"Things got a bit chaotic yesterday, what with your arrival and the zombie incursion."

"Terribly convenient for her, that zombie incursion, I'd say," said Jim quietly.

"So she's kept a prisoner in the Complex?" asked Gabby.

"Pretty much."

I think Gabby sighed happily. It certainly sounded like it.

"Right!" said Gabby. "Do you know where in the complex Priya is held."

I put my head in my hands.

Jim grinned. "This sounds more like it," he said.

"For the next few days she's being locked in the bank vaults. We have a map," said the man and an incredibly detailed little map appeared on the table.

"You have a map. That's handy!" I commented.

"Hush Cat!" said Gabby.

"If you can get Priya out then we can provide a distraction outside."

"Got this all planned out, haven't they?" I murmured to Jim.

He just grinned back. "Saves us the trouble."

"We're being played!"

Jim just shrugged.

* * *

The following day we were taken to the Complex for `meetings'. At least that was Rayne's plan. Gabby had a different one that involved clobbering our guide over the head as soon as we were away from the guards on the entrance and then heading for the vaults in Dunlop Bank, using our map.

The clobbering was short work and then we were free to amuse ourselves inside the citadel. Jim sauntered along with a shotgun over his shoulder and a cigar in his mouth.

"Aren't you a bit conspicuous?" I asked.

"We're guests. We're meant to be here."

"Not without Masha," I pointed out.

Gabby was fidgitting, trying to look nonchalant. Slasher was strapped to his leg, giving him a Wild West look. "People aren't to know we're supposed to be with her."

We headed down several staircases into the basement of Dunlop Bank.

"Who are you?" A large man sat at a small table in the narrow corridor. He couldn't have looked more like a jailer if he'd tried. Possibly he was trying.

"DHPD," said Gabby. "We've been sent to see Priya Watkinson."

The man's brow furrowed. "I wasn't notified." He picked up a mobile phone. "I'll have it cleared."

At which point Jim unexpectedly shouted, "Look out he's loose!" and shot the man in the head.

Gabby and I gaped at him.

"What was that about?" I asked.

"Star Wars." Jim puffed on his cigar. "Is there a window we can ditch the body out of? Preferably one looking outwards so he doesn't end up inside the barriers."

"Previous landing, and I'm not carrying him," I said.

"That's OK, Gabby and Jim can manage."

"Why do I have to carry the body, just because Jim's a nutcase?" complained Gabby.

"Because this is all your plan."

I watched them drag the body up the steps and then flicked through the clipboard on the man's desk. It looked like they had quite a few prisoners in the vault but it didn't take long to identify Priya.

Gabby and Jim returned. Jim dangling the man's keys.

"She's in the third vault along," I told them.

Jim handed the keys over the Gabby. "Time for the handsome prince to rescue the beautiful princess."

Gabby scowled. "Don't get carried away." But he took the keys all the same and began counting along the doors.

"Hi! I'm Gabriel Mallows. I'm here to rescue you," I heard him say.

"Now you've set him off quoting Star Wars too!" I grumbled at Jim.

"This whole situation's fucked," he observed. "We may as well enjoy it."

Priya came marching briskly down the corridor. She had a phone clamped to her ear and was talking rapidly to someone.

"She took my phone!" complained Gabby weakly.

She glanced up at us and paused in mid-conversation to give us an irritated look. "We need to mobilise quickly," she said then returned to relaying instructions over the phone.

"Did she say thanks?" I whispered to Gabby.

"Yeah, well, kinda. I think she thought we were a bit late actually." He shrugged helplessly.

Jim grinned suddenly and turned to Priya just as she put away the phone. "What's the plan?" he asked.

"Half the resistance are going to seize the workshop and barricade themselves into it. The rest are going to storm the Complex. We need to open the gates."

"So," I began as she marched away from us. "We're not really here to rescue you."

"Well, I couldn't exactly open the gates from the inside until someone broke me out of the cell, could I?"

I made a face at her retreating back.

"The wind will change and you'll get stuck like that," remarked Jim.

Gabby grinned happily. "They're seizing the workshop."

"You two are enjoying yourselves far too much," I commented.

As we made our way back up towards the main hallways, shouts and cries started to echo from somewhere beyond the Complex.

"Sounds like your rebellion has started," commented Jim.

I peered out of the nearest window. This one looked inwards towards the streets and the rebellion that was thronging them. "Rayne has snipers," I observed.

"What?" said Priya.

"Gun muzzles," I elaborated as Priya pushed into the window beside me.

It wasn't good. The Complex formed a strong defensive position with any attacker funnelled into a narrow street leading up to the doors of St. Martha's Church. Rayne's men could easily wipe out the whole resistance without sustaining so much as a scratch.

"A few zombies might help the opposition, given none of them have guns," mused Jim.

"Not if they eat their fellow proletariat first," I pointed out.

"There is that."

"Where are these snipers?" Gabby appeared at my elbow.

I pointed out the gun muzzles.

Gabby snorted. "They're not even trying to be inconspicuous are they? Get out of the way."

He pushed me to one side and then sighted along Slasher.

"You'll never hit them," I said.

"Watch me."

He let off five shots, emptying the clip on the Smith & Wesson. Then he stood back triumphantly and blew at the end. "Five shots. Five hits."

"I'm impressed," said Priya.

Gabby positively swaggered. He'd always been a surprisingly accurate shot. Firing a gun obviously focused his mind.

"Don't let it go to your head. There'll be others and they'll be more careful this time." I warned.

"Someone will probably revive those ones anyway," said Priya. "But it's bought us time." She flashed Gabby a smile.

"Right!" said Jim. "I have explosives. Where's this armoury?"

"Gabby can you stay here and keep watch for snipers?" asked Priya.

Gabby nodded.

"Jim, you're on the armoury." Priya continued. "Cat? You and me need to get the main gate open."

Suddenly there was a large rumbling boom in the distance. A faint cloud of smoke rose up on the horizon.

"What's that?" I asked.

"Explosives," said Jim with certainty.

I frowned out over the houses of Penny Heights. "Was blowing out the barricades part of your plan?" I asked Priya.

"No."

"They wouldn't," said Gabby.

"What's going on out there? What are your guys doing?" I asked.

"They're supposed to be storming the barricades here at the Complex."

I could see the crowd swarming in the streets below.

"No," said Gabby. "It's not the resistance. It's the forces of reactionary bourgeois oppression."

We all stared him.

"Rayne and his thugs at any rate," he clarified. "They've demolished the defences and let in the horde. Your resistance are zombie chow."

"We need to get everyone into the Complex fast," said Priya.

She was already jogging off up the corridor and I followed her.

We arrived at St. Martha's Church moments later. I hadn't noticed when we came in but a small gatehouse was positioned next to the large steel doors and it was clear the machinery for opening them was inside.

I didn't think we had much time. I had visions of the zombies sweeping through the streets of Penny Heights outside so I stepped smartly into the small room and opened fire. The guards clearly hadn't expected an attack from within the complex.

"Nice," said Priya, leaning forward to examine the controls.

I shot each of the bodies through the head to give us some time before they stood back up. "What are you going to do with Rayne's men when you do take control?" I asked.

Priya shrugged. "Throw them in the punishment pits I suppose."

"How about banishing them from Penny Heights."

"They'll just come back."

"Shoot them when they do and throw them outside the walls again?"

"Is that what the DHPD do?"

"More or less, only without the walls."

"Does it work?"

Not so much, but I wasn't going to say that. I just shrugged.

Priya began activating controls and the great gates swung open. A crowd of people surged inside. The sound of groans suggested that the horde were not far behind them.

"Tim!" shouted Priya, grabbing a large man as he was swept through the door. "You're in charge of the doors. Shut them before the zombies get in."

Then she snatched my gun from my hand and dashed out into the hallway. She stood on a pew and fired up at the ceiling. Dozens of faces turned her way.

"Comrades!" she shouted. "Today is your chance to seize your liberty back from the oppressive regime of Rayne and his thugs!"

The crowd roared appreciatively.

There was a distant sound of an explosion.

"That's the armoury being opened," shouted Priya. "Follow me and arm yourselves."

She leaped off the chair and headed back into the Complex. The crowd surged after her. Helplessly, I followed.

Jim had pulled some kind of table across the doorway to the armoury when we got there. He was handing out guns and ammunition with a cheery expression.

"Form an orderly queue there!" he called. "There's plenty for everyone. Jim's gun store is open for business to all comers. And what would you like, madam? Jim can supply shotguns, handguns, flare guns and an impressive array of pool cues and empty beer bottles."

I shuffled into the queue.

"What happened to your gun?" asked Jim.

I jerked my head at Priya, who was standing next to me, tapping away at the keys on Gabby's phone. "It was requisitioned by the forces of the revolution."

Jim shook his head and handed me another.

"Dad? Where are you?" Priya's voice was quiet, but I was standing right beside her so I heard it clearly enough.

I turned away from Jim to look at her. She turned her back, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece.

"Problem?" I asked when she finished.

"No, no problem," she said and smiled falsely.

I watched as she weaved her way through the crowd of rebels, issuing instructions and reassurance, but very clearly moving back out of the room.

I looked at Jim. "I'm going to follow her. Find Gabby and tell him to call me," I said.

Priya headed back down deep into the Complex, into corridors that were empty of people and the general rabble of rebellion. It became impossible to follow her discreetly, but I hung back and she didn't acknowledge my presence. Eventually she knocked on a wooden door and then entered.

I crouched outside, trying to listen through the thin panelling.

"Miss Watkinson, so good of you to join us."

"Are you Rayne?" Priya demanded.

"Rayne is a construct, a name to conjure with, but it will do for now."

I wished I could see who the mysterious Rayne was.

"What do you want?"

"That should be fairly obvious. I want this tiresome rebellion of yours stopped. You've quite accurately identified your father's skills as the source of power in Penny Heights. You were wrong in thinking that the only thing keeping him in line was the threat of violence to your person."

"Dad?" Priya asked.

I heard a low rumble which sounded like her father's voice, but I couldn't make out the words.

"The rebellion is over, Miss Watkinson. If you call off your forces now I will make sure the fall out is lenient."

At which point my mobile suddenly started to ring and I was forced to beat a hasty retreat.

"Who is this?" I whispered fiercely into the phone.

"It's me," said Gabby's voice. "I've got Jim's phone. What's going on?"

"Rayne has Priya and her Dad, beyond that I'm not sure, but it seems likely he's going to move against the rebellion.

"Where are you?"

"Rothwell building. Lower basement."

"Just stay there. I'm coming down."

"How's that going to help?"

"Just stay there, OK?"

* * *

Moments later the door of the office opened and a small group came out. Priya and Watkinson were in the centre of about five armed men. With them was a lean balding man in a suit who I guessed was Rayne. They moved rapidly away from me with one of the armed men keeping a look out behind. So that put paid to any ideas I might have had for following them.

Lacking anything better to do I wandered into the room they had vacated. It was a luxurious office of the kind I hadn't seen since the apocalypse started. A heavy wooden desk, with a leather top was placed prominently in the centre and there were high tech looking computer screens mounted on the walls.

"What the fucking shit is this?" asked Gabby, skidding into the room.

"I think it's stuff from outside Malton. These screens were really expensive when the quarantine came down."

"And they're cheap now?"

"I don't know, but so much got smashed in the first few weeks. How would you set up a place like this?"

"There's a trashed computer here," observed Gabby looking under the desk.

"So there's something they don't want us to know. They've taken Priya and her father somewhere. There were guards and it's difficult to follow someone around here."

"I guessed. Rayne must have a way out. Watkinson is his key resource. Without Watkinson this place will be over-run by zombies in no time, especially with the barricades down. All Rayne has to do is wait for the horde to move on and then he can move back in and set up shop again."

Gabby began rifling through a filing cabinet. "Do you think there are maps of the Complex anywhere?"

"This is a Necrotech building. They all have a standard design right?"

"Give or take, yeah."

"So there'll be that basement door, for taking in supplies."

"We're stuck on the edge of a cliff, Cat. It'll just open onto thin air."

I raised my eyebrows. "Since when did that stop Necrotech? I bet they built the door just because it's standard design and then locked it and forgot it was there."

"Fuck, you're right. It's the best place to check. Let's go. Phone Jim! Tell him to meet us."

I phoned Jim as we hurried along the corridors. He tutted at me.

"I'll bring the mob," he said. "They need Watkinson to keep this place going and the worst that can happen is that he gets shot in the crossfire. I've got a few revivification syringes with me."

"Sounds like a plan," I agreed. The syringes would turn a zombie Watkinson back into a functioning human. As long as you had enough of them, death wasn't much of a problem in Malton.

"What sounds like a plan?" asked Gabby.

"He's going to bring the mob with him. Then we'll outnumber Rayne and his guards."

"We can't afford for Priya or Watkinson to get killed in a firefight."

I sighed and rapped Gabby on the forehead. "Hello? Zombie apocalypse?"

"Oh right! Yeah! Good plan."

We reached the lowest floor before Jim and his mob arrived. It has to be said I was brought up short in surprise as we entered the small hallway leading to the back door. The door apparently opened, not onto a sheer drop but a small viewing platform. Presumably at one point the lords of Necrotech had been able to survey all they governed from that point.

Now, however, there was a massive helicopter hovering just beyond the platform.

"Holy fucking shit!" said Gabby.

It was hard to disagree with his assessment.

Rayne, if that was he, was already in the helicopter. Priya and her father were still in the hallway. Gabby didn't hesitate but raised Slasher and fired once, hitting Rayne between the eyes. That rather alerted the four guards to our presence and they returned fire with some enthusiasm. Gabby and I were forced to take shelter behind the far door.

I could watch events through the crack in the open door and I saw one of the guards start trying to manhandle Priya onto the helicopter. She kicked and struggled making it difficult for him to get her body across the gap.

I had the shotgun Jim had given me and, in a surprising display of accuracy, I managed to shoot the guard before he came up with a plan B. Priya scuttled to safety somewhere in a corner. I ducked back behind the door.

"They've not got any obvious cover in there," muttered Gabby. "We might as well storm in and hope for the best."

He kicked open the door and walked smartly into the room, letting off two shots as he went. More bullets thudded into the corridor wall.

Watching, I could see the helicopter lifting up and away. Someone had decided to cut their losses.

Then Jim and his mob came barrelling down the corridor and matters were pretty much resolved.

* * *

The next evening Jim and I set up shop on top of the Tompkyns Building with a small keg of homebrew Jim had liberated from somewhere. This was mostly, though not entirely because our morning had been occupied in conversations with Gabby that started with statements to the effect of "She's really pretty and smart," and generally ended with the phrase "Who am I kidding?"

In the end even Jim had snapped and said, "Either ask her out or shut up! I've already told you what I think half a dozen times."

"What does Jim think?" I couldn't help asking Gabby.

"That she likes me and I should ask."

"So what's the problem?"

"You know Jim. He might just think it's funny to watch her slap my face."

I wondered if I'd been this difficult when I was seventeen. "I think she likes you, too, so you need to ask her out."

"Ask her out where? The cinemas are all ruined, the parks are infested by zombies. The most romantic place around here is probably an abandoned apartment with a mattress on the floor."

"The where isn't actually that important," I said gently. "Look here she is now!" I spun Gabby round and gave him a gentle push in Priya's direction.

He looked back at me. "Cat!" he wailed quietly.

"Go now! Or I'll tell Delta you were chicken."

Gabby took a hesitant step towards Priya. She ambled with feigned nonchalance towards him and they halted about two yards apart.

"So," they both said at once.

"Ladies first," said Gabby hurriedly.

"Well, I thought, you're supposed to be having a diplomatic meeting, right?"

"Yeah, with whoever is in charge." Gabby frowned. "I guess that's you."

Priya nodded. "Yeah, we should talk about... stuff."

"Yeah, definitely, relations and shit." Gabby waved his arms.

They stared at each other a moment, standing in the centre of the crowded `Hall of Government'.

I decided I was going to have to intervene. "Everything's a bit hectic at the moment," I said brightly. "How about this evening? You and Gabby could meet somewhere quiet."

Possibly not the most subtle thing I've ever said, but I was finding it difficult to take the procrastination all that seriously.

They both looked at me hopefully.

"Do you know somewhere quiet, Priya?" I pushed.

Priya nodded again. "There's a roof garden on top of Rothwell Necrotech. It's quiet and sort of official-ish. How about six o'clock?"

Gabby's mouth opened and shut a couple of times. Then he grinned. "I'll get Cat to put it in my diary."

"I've got a date!" he whispered to me as Priya walked away.

"I noticed. Since when am I your secretary?"

"Humour me! I've got a date! I think anyway. Do you think it's a date?"

I hit him on the arm.

Jim and I reckoned we could see the top of Rothwell from the top of Tompkyns and we were not wrong. Gabby and Priya were sitting next to each other on a bench with their backs to us. They'd been there a good hour and we were starting to get nervous.

"Do you think anything is actually going to happen?" I complained.

"They're drinking the whisky I gave Gabby. It's pretty strong stuff. Something has to happen sooner or later," said Jim.

I squinted at the two figures. I could just about make out a bottle between them.

"Speaking of whisky. I found this in Rayne's office before anyone could make off with it!"

Jim held up a rather expensive looking bottle which claimed to be a Scottish single malt with an unpronounceable name.

"Is that what you gave Gabby?" I asked.

"God, no! Why waste good whisky when hooch will do? I gave him some Jack Daniels."

"I quite like Jack Daniels."

"You clearly need educating."

"Malton's not exactly the best place to develop a refined palate, you know."

Jim snorted.

"What do you think Rayne was up to anyway?" I asked, staring at the bottle. "Where did he get stuff like this from?"

"He had pretty high tech gear in his office. Five years ahead of anything I've seen."

"That's what I thought." It had been five years since the quarantine went up around Malton. "You think he had outside help?"

"Well, that helicopter certainly didn't come from around here. There was also no good reason for him to lock himself away like he did, unless he wanted to limit the risk of infection."

I thought of Rayne's dead body in the helicopter. "Better not mention that to Gabby. Don't know how he'd take the idea of having killed someone who could actually die."

"Bound to happen sooner or later."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Rayne can't have been the only person flown in here to organise and manage survivor communities. You can see why they tried Penny Heights." Jim waved his hands to indicate the rock and the narrow streets. Priya's fighters had already evicted many of the zombies and the workshop was up and running, churning out more steel barriers. "I don't suppose they'll stop here though."

"Do you think Penny Heights will work without Rayne?"

"Who knows? They've got Watkinson. If they can keep their act together they may be OK."

"Have they got Watkinson, though?" Watkinson had been evasive about how Rayne had captured him and why he was so ready to go along with him. I wasn't sure why, though maybe Rayne had promised a way out of the city for him and Priya.

"Not our problem," said Jim. "We need to get back to the DHPD tomorrow. Once Gabby's managed to properly establish diplomatic relations over there, he's going to have to love and leave his damsel in distress."

"She wasn't in that much distress," I pointed out.

"But she is a damsel. I think anyway." Jim looked worried for a moment.

"And she seems to actually quite like Gabby."

Jim shook his head sadly. "No accounting for taste."

I looked over at the Rothwell building once more. In the light of the setting sun I could see the two bodies leaning closer and then the silhouettes merged into one.

Jim handed me a glass of whisky. "Hallelujah!" he said.


End file.
